you, and I'm coming with a bank-roll. I wanted to keep it
secret, and have a big surprise for you, but I can't hold it any
longer, because I feel just like a kid with a new top. Don't go
out. I'll be with you early.

"JOHN."

She crushed the telegram up in her hand, and crossed the room so he
should not see her face. John was coming back--a rich man. He was
coming back to claim her. Great God! What could she say to him?

"No bad news, I hope?" said Brockton suspiciously.

"No, no--not bad news," she replied hastily.

"I thought you appeared startled."

"No, not at all," she stammered.

Brockton sat down and picked up the newspaper again. Carelessly he
asked:

"From Elfie?"

"No--just a friend."

"Oh!"

He sat down again, making himself comfortable in the armchair. Laura,
in an agony of suspense, growing momentarily more nervous, watched him
sideways, wondering how she could get rid of him, hoping he would soon
go out. It would never do for John to come and find him there. With two
men of such violent temper, already jealous to the breaking point,
there was no telling what terrible tragedy might happen. Besides, she
was anxious to be alone, so she might think out some plan of action.
Something must be done at once. It was near eleven already. John would
reach New York about noon; he would probably seek her out at once. She
could reasonably expect him that very afternoon. A cold chill ran
through her at the thought. What would she say to him? Get rid of
Brockton she must at all costs. Timidly she asked:

"Won't you be rather late getting down town, Will?"

Without lifting his head, he answered carelessly:

"Doesn't make any difference. I don't feel much like the office now.
Thought I might order the car and take a spin through the park. The
cold air will do me a lot of good. Like to go?"

"No, not to-day," she replied hastily. A silence followed, and then she
went on: "I thought your business was important; you said so last
night."

"No hurry," he answered. Suddenly turning and looking up at her, he
asked searchingly: "Do you--er--want to get rid of me?"

"Why should I?" she demanded, with pretended surprise.

"Expecting some one?" he demanded.

"No--not exactly," she replied hesitatingly.

Turning her back on him, she went to the window, and stood there,
gazing out into the street. Brockton watched her for a moment; then,
with a covert smile, he said dryly:

"If you don't min